


You Worry too Much

by ArkadyFlinch



Series: Nash Shepard [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Aromantic Shepard, Banter, Bros with Benefits, Colonist (Mass Effect), Dissociation, Fluff and mild angst, M/M, No romo, Project Overlord DLC, Smut, Sole Survivor (Mass Effect), Survivor Guilt, bros and feelings n shit, i dont beta anything im sORRY, i had a prompt about cuddling and it turned into this, post suicide mission, post tramautic stress disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArkadyFlinch/pseuds/ArkadyFlinch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and Garrus continue to blow off steam post-suicide mission. Scared to ruin their friendship, they remain 'just friends'. </p><p>I had a prompt about hard core cuddling in a non-romantic (or not-yet romantic) relationship so here it is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slow Morning

It had been too long since Shepard had awoken like this. Warm, safe, and with a blissful feeling of everything being right. He didn’t want to lose the moment, so he closed his eyes and tried to delve back into his dreams. 

Too long since he’d had pleasant dreams, since he’d felt good about sleeping in, since he’d even woken up without a dark sense of foreboding hanging over his head. Dying did that to you, he guessed. Waking up some sort of Cerberus nightmare hadn’t helped. 

He shifted, burying his face into his pillow.  _ No thinking about the past. No worrying about the future. Just a few more minutes. _

Something...or someone shifted on the other end of the bed, and he froze for only a few seconds. Garrus. A reason he felt so content right now, perhaps. 

He hadn’t been kidding about blowing off steam. 

It’d done wonders for the knots in his neck before, and especially after the Suicide Mission. 

Hell, his migraines had practically disappeared, something Mordin seemed even more smug about than the initial, deeply awkward conversation they’d had regarding the Turian.

Even better, their relationship hadn’t changed at all. They blew off steam, Garrus either left right after, or slept in his bed - who was he to hog the only full sized bed on the Normandy? - and they’d still been chummy with each other. The same snark, the same banter, the same friendship.

He felt the smile tug at the scars that cut into his lip, and pressed his face deeper into the pillow.

They had agreed, after all, to keep things strictly physical. 

Neither of them wanted to ruin a good thing, and their...attraction had been quite a surprise for Garrus. Not so much Shepard, but he’d given the Turian space to figure things out. 

It’d taken  _ forever _ , but Garrus finally couldn’t come up with anymore excuses. 

He laughed silently, thinking about their dialogue when the opportunity had been brought up;

 

“ _ You have so many better  _ options _ , Shepard. Why me?” _

_ “I was doing, ah, research, and I was confused about…” _

_ “Jeff told me that…” _

 

Shepard snorted, balling his hands in his blankets and snuggling deeper into his cocoon. A responding tug from the other side of the bed caused him to lift his head and glare at the Turian.

 

Instead he came face to face with Garrus, blue eyes meeting his green. His breath caught, and his heart stuttered, but his mouth, as always, worked faster than his brain, “Are you really trying to steal your Commanding Officer’s blankets?”

 

Garrus’s mandibles extended outwards in a grin and he tugged again, “Only because my Commanding Officer doesn’t know how to share.”

 

“Who says I have to share?” He laughed as the blankets were thrown over his head, and he felt the Turian sit up in bed, letting out a deep, sonorous chuckle of his own.

 

“We all know how much you like to steal ships...and credits.”

 

He fought out of the blankets and sat up with a deep huff, “That was once...okay twice! And the credits are helping fund a war effort.” 

 

Garrus was gathering the pieces of his armor, back to him, but he could still hear him snort. 

He turned his head to glance at Shepard, then his eyes wandered over to the case full of ships by his desk. One mandible dropped in a smirk. 

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I wasn’t saying  _ anything _ .” 

 

Shepard dropped it and stretched, vertebrae popping in his back, and he let out a pleased noise in the back of his throat, opening his eyes to catch Garrus quickly looking away, and down at the fasteners at his chest piece.

 

Watching Garrus get dressed made him sombre up, and he focused on combing out his frazzled hair and patting it down instead of dwelling on it.

 

“When we get to Aite I want you and Tali on my squad.”

 

The final piece of Garrus’ armor snapped in place with a  _ snick _ and he tilted his head at Shepard, “As nice as it is to be a part of the ground team, I gotta ask; Why are we still helping Cerberus?”

 

“If they’re doing something shady, which they are, we are going to stop it. Plus, once we get the VI under control I’ve given EDI orders to investigate.” Shepard gave one last futile tug at his hair and stood, shuffling his way to the bathroom. “Anything we can get on Cerberus now will help us in the future.” He called, turning on the sink to splash water on his face.

 

When he looked back up, Garrus was leaning in the doorway, watching him. Shepard straightened up, flexing his shoulders with a smirk, “You may have the scars now, but you should have seen me during the hunt for Saren.”

 

He turned around and looked at his back in the mirror. The massive network of burn scars, like most of his other scars earned over the years, had been replaced by smooth skin during his reconstruction. 

It was stupid, but he missed them. The burns, the bullet marks, the cuts...they told his story. And Cerberus had erased all of that, expecting him to thank them. 

 

He held his own gaze for only a few seconds - he hated seeing the dull red glow to his eyes.

 

His eyes turned dark as he turned back to Garrus. “I will never forget what they did to my team, Garrus. You don’t have to worry about that.”

 

Garrus hummed, “Shepard, you know-”

 

He was interrupted by Jeff over the intercom, “ETA Two hours, Shepard.”

 

His mandibles clicked tight against his face, and he shook his head, “We’ve got your back, Shepard. No matter what.”

 

Shepard nodded, “I know. Thanks, big guy. Now go get ready. I want to hit the ground running before Cerberus can figure out where we are.”

 

Cerberus hadn’t found them thusfar, but he’d be dammned if he let them get their hands on his ship or his crew again. Paranoia had it’s good points, and he kept things as safe as they could be for his crew. They were the only family he had, and he loved each and every one of them. 

 

Once he got dressed and put on his armor, he assembled his weapons and made his way to the CIC to talk to Joker. 

 

Joker, as always, heard his boots before he saw him, and swiveled in his chair with a quip ready. “So Commander, did you sleep well? Because EDI -” He blinked, then laughed, “Jeez, Commander, did Garrus try to build a nest in your hair? That’s what Turians do right? Nest?”

 

Shepard scowled, crossing his arms, “Are you done?”

 

“Give me a minute and I’ll have a few more for you. EDI? Anything?”

 

“I believe this is what is termed a ‘Bad Hair Day’. Although, for the Commander, we have yet to see a ‘Good’ one.”

 

Jeff’s face lit up, “That’s a good one!” He reached over and fist bumped EDI’s terminal. 

 

“I’m going to throw all of you out of the airlock. Don’t think I can’t get Grunt to move your core, EDI.” He faked a grumpy scowl, but couldn’t quite hide his smile. “How long until we reach Aite?”

 

“Half an hour, Commander. Long enough for you to shower and work on that mess.”

 

“I’ll wear a helmet, deal with it later.”

 

“What’s the plan when we land?” Joker turned back in his chair to look at his interface, closing some windows quickly as Shepard walked closer to stand by his side and look at their progress. 

  
“Stay close, once everything’s down I’ll hail you, get EDI to see what it can find. Evidence, credits, dirt, I want everything.”


	2. Aftermath

Sometimes Shepard hated his own curiosity. His own drive to  _ know _ had lead to some pretty bad situations before. He’d discovered things that had made him feel sick, like when he was a young cadet, desperate to know what happened to his family, taking every mission he could get in the Terminus in order to find  _ something _ ,  _ anything _ . He’d done some things he regretted later in order to find out if his family survived. When he’d found Talitha...he’d had nightmares for weeks. He’d done everything he could to help her...and it wasn’t enough.

It was even worse on Mindoir. He’d spent a single shore leave there, unable to see anything but chaos and death, he’d run back to his ship and puked. He’d had headaches for weeks. He wasn’t able to look himself in the mirror for months. 

Finding Tombs, and being unable to save him had felt the same way. Shame and nausea and the sinking feeling that  _ he was responsible for all of this _ . He hadn’t saved his family, he hadn’t saved Talitha or Tombs, and he hadn’t saved his team back on Akuze. 

It made his chest tight, so tight he couldn’t breathe sometimes. 

 

He’d felt the same sense of foreboding on Aite. They were watched as they traveled to different research stations. The Geth were acting erratic. The video recordings they found were pointing to something underlying the lie Archer had told them, and he was having more trouble breathing the closer they got to the truth. 

 

He felt like he’d known, before he found out. Humanity had had stories like this for thousands of years. As advanced as they were, some things never changed. It made him sick to his stomach, it made him hate everything, it made him fight all the harder for those who couldn’t defend themselves.  

 

He took a deep breath, trying to keep to the 7-4-8 breathing technique Chakwas had given him, but it was hard. It was so hard, when his heart was pounding so hard, so fast, and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air in. He folded his hands over his eyes and pressed his forehead hard into the surface of the bar. It was quiet and dark here, but he still couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t get the smell of smoke and blood out of his nose, he couldn’t get the screams out of his head. He couldn’t unsee the faces of those he couldn’t save.

 

_ We  _ saved _ him. We saved David. He’s safe now. He’s free from his brother. You saved this one. _

__

His hands reached up to tug worriedly at his curls, still a mess, despite the hours spent crammed in a helmet. 

__

_ “Tombs! I can help you!” _

_ “You can’t change what they’ve done to me.” _

__

_ You’ll never change what they’ve done to you, either. _

__

“...?”

__

He blinked, then looked around. Garrus had joined him at the bar. "Sorry...what?"

__

“I said, you’re doing it again.”

__

“Doing what?” He took another breath, counting slowly to 7, then 4, then 8.

__

“Worrying.” A talon slid forward and tapped the table in front of him, causing him to look up. “You doing alright?” Garrus’ voice dropped into a softer tone, eyes watching him with concern. "You looked rough after..."

__

Those eyes always did something to his heart rate. Somehow the Turian always  _ knew _ when he was beating himself up.

__

“Yeah...I…” He tried to think, but he was feeling sluggish, his skin felt cold, his hands sweaty. “I’m just having a drink.” He couldn’t even remember what he was drinking.

__

Garrus walked around to the other side of the bar, opening a Dextro beer, eyes only briefly leaving his. “You’re beating yourself up again, if that’s the correct human expression.”

__

Shepard shot him a sheepish smile, eyes sliding away from his face back down to his hands. 

Once, he'd had a scar that went from one side of his hand to another, stretching from the corner of his thumb to his wrist. He'd gotten it when a Batarian has activated his Omni-blade and tried to stab him. He'd batted it away with his rifle, but cut his hand pretty deep in the process. He'd used his blood to blind the alien, and full body tackled him to the ground. The alien hadn't had any new information, but that hadn't stopped him. Stars used to mark his knuckles, scars and callouses turning his hands into gnarled fists. Now, they looked like they had before he'd joined the Alliance. 

Had the Batarian had family? Soulless slaver or not, had he had kids back at home? Did they ever hear what had happened to him?

Was it right to wish they hadn't?

 

He realized he hadn't replied, and forced a laugh, "Can you blame me?"

__

Shepard was rewarded with a smirk and a slight shrug, “I guess not. But from one person who’s fucked up to another, you need to take a step back and breathe.”

__

He smiled without meaning it, swirling the alcohol in his glass, “You stole my line.”

Garrus tipped him a wink and took a deep drink from his glass. “What can I say? You come up with some inspiring words now and again.”

They fell into silence for a bit while Shepard drank, which turned out to be some sweet sort of Asari beer. He’d had poor tolerance back - 

His hand spasmed, clutching the glass until it let out an ominous creaking sound.

-back when he’d been human.

_Had you ever been human?_

He felt Garrus' eyes on him. He flinched when a hand was placed softly on his arm. “Hey, Shepard, are you alright?”

He swallowed and sighed, “I just...would  _ love _ to stop thinking for a bit.”

“Well you aren’t going to get there drinking  _ that _ . I can smell it from here, you’re practically drinking sugar and water. You’ll need something stronger.”

Garrus pried the glass from his hands and filled it with whiskey, rumbling lowly as he handed it back, “Drink this, and if you’re feeling up for it, I can, ah,  _ help  _ you with that.”

He finally glanced up, meeting the Turian’s gaze, smile quirking at his lips despite the mood he was in. “Been doing more research, have you?”

“Just enough not to make a complete fool of myself."

Shepard snorted and took a sip from his drink. It burned down his throat, forcing him to cough, tears springing to his eyes. He spent a moment more coughing, before finally composing himself. "This is why I don't drink this stuff." He finally wheezed. 

Garrus snorted, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "lightweight" before taking a drink of his own. 

"According to Miranda I  _can_ handle it."

He caught a flash of Garrus' teeth as the Turian laughed, "That's why whenever we go to bars you practically drape yourself over me?"  He cleared his throat and spoke in a crude imitation of Shepard's voice, "I have something for you to  _calibrate_ , offissir!"

Shepard punched him, scowling, "You can't pretend  _I'm_ worse than flirting than you are." He took another quick drink, only slightly winded from it this time, and growled his own impression out, "Hey Shepard, hang on let me look up pick up lines on my fancy visor, did you fall from heaven? Oh...well..if you  _believe_ in heaven, that is..."

Garrus looked downright offended. "Excuse you,  _Commander_ , I don't- " He threw up his hands and made quotations with his fingers, " _wing_ anything!"

Shepard cackled, feeling the tightness in his chest ease, bit by bit. Garrus knew how to rib him and get his spirits back up, they could argue like this for hours. 

"Oh...wait..." He took another, eager sip, "Joker told me Turians nest...do they?"

Garrus rolled his eyes, finishing off his beer, " _You_ were the one nesting this morning Shepard, not  _me_." He held up his beer, "You need a refill?"

 

Shepard looked down to find and empty glass and, with a smirk, he slid his glass over to Garrus, "Please."


	3. Stress Relief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah this is p much just smut (my first try at it anyway)
> 
> So uh, i hope you like!

A couple of glasses later and Shepard’s world was only slightly swimmy - all those cybernetics couldn’t let him have _too_ much fun - but he was feeling much more relaxed. The talons draped along the nape of his neck, occasionally flexing, drawing delicate lines along his skin, and sending delicious shivers down his spine, were definitely helping him unwind.

That and the company, too, he supposed.

 

Another caress, just enough pressure so he really _felt_ the point of his claws, and he leaned towards Garrus with a hum. He heard a soft chuckle, and those damned claws of his drew up to tangle in his hair.

 

“Feeling better?”

 

Shepard answered with another hum, leaning closer to rest his head against Garrus’ shoulder. “I needed this.”

 

In response to his murmur, Garrus’ own voice grew languid, “Hmm...good whiskey will do that. Cerberus has taste in alcohol, if nothing else.”

 

Shepard snorted, eyes drifting closed as Garrus gently scratched his scalp, “Not the booze, this.” One hand lifted up and waved ambiguously. “Down time, liquor, a head scratch…time to breathe..”

 

“Hm...well...I’m glad I could help…” The Turian let out a dual-toned sigh, and curled his locks around his fingers, “...you know...I am glad you decided to grow it out...it’s so…”

He ran his hands through his hair. Shepard cracked one eye open and watched as Garrus considered the mess atop his head with an intense sort of curiosity. He took his hand back to take a drink from his bottle.

 

“Everyone on the Normandy knows you like my hair, you know.” He slid himself closer to Garrus, leaning haphazardly out of his chair. Garrus got the message, and laughed, before returning his talons to run lightly along Shepard’s scalp.

“What happened to you don’t want to alarm the crew?”

 

“They’ve had the time to get used to...us...I also suspect that they might have known…”

 

Shepard lifted his head and gave him a smug smirk, “What was their first clue? The awkwardness, the awful entendres? Was it the kiss after we got out of the Omega Relay?”

 

“It may have been a nosey pilot, an unshackled  AI and some poorly executed Extranet search histories.”

 

Shepard snickered, slowly lifting himself onto his elbows. “You’re such a dork.”

 

“And yet you wanted _me_...”

 

“Shhhh...c’mere.” Shepard grabbed Garrus by the cowl and pulled him down, first placing a soft kiss to his mouth plates, then pressed his forehead to Garrus’. “You’re the only one I’d choose.”

 

His smile faltered once he made eye contact with the Turian, caught off-guard, as always, by the intensity of the gaze. They sat there, frozen, for a moment. He could feel the vibrations of Garrus’ subharmonics running through his fingers, but he couldn’t quite hear it. Judging by the expression on his face, though, he could take a guess. Suddenly he felt a bit warm, his throat dry. His face flushed, and he laughed shakily, unable to stand the heavy silence between them. “Your place or mine?”

 

Garrus blinked, then let out a short laugh before sliding out of his chair. He tilted his head and smirked, that small flash of teeth enough to get Shepard blushing all over again, “What an intriguing question…”

 

He looked Shepard up and down, humming in thought, and Shepard grinned back, getting to his feet. He stretched, popping the vertebrae in his back and drawled, “Before you get too excited imagining me up on the Thanix; it was a trick question. Last time I tried sleeping in your cot I had a knot in my back for a week.”

 

Garrus placed a hand over his chest, feigning a wistful sigh, “Ah, well, a man can dream.”

 

Shepard snorted, brushing by the Turian, “One day, big guy. I want to sleep in my bed tonight.”

He keyed open the door and walked down the hallway towards the elevator. His cabin also saved them a walk through the mess, which he was more than happy to avoid. He may have grabbed Garrus by the mandibles and kissed him in front of the entire crew after realizing that he was _alive - they all were -_ but making a habit of it was quite another thing.

No need giving them more ammunition than they already had after all.

He pressed the key for the elevator and glanced back at Garrus, who was looking far lower than Shepard’s eye-level.

 

Shepard shook his head, eyes catching the shifting of the air behind Garrus just as he heard a giggle. His smile fell.

“Kasumi?”

 

She shimmered into view just as the door to her room opened, she let out another laugh, and waved at them as the doors closed behind her.

 

Shepard sulked as they walked into the elevator, unswayed by Garrus’ hands sliding around his waist, nor the way the Turian pulled him tight to his chest, face nuzzling into his hair.

Garrus hummed, and Shepard swore that he purposefully put more bass in his voice, he could feel it vibrating up his back. Shepard shivered, leaning back into his embrace.

 

Embarrassing banter aside, he loved Garrus’ dorky, awkward side. He couldn’t get too mad that the crew teased him about it.

 

It was getting more difficult to keep up the act, with the hard lines of his lover pressing against him, and that dual-toned growl being breathed down his neck.

He shivered again, arching back into the touch. Garrus rested his head on top of Shepards, claws drawing lines from his waist to his hips.

 

“Eager, are we?” He smirked, hands reaching back to wrap around Garrus’ waist.

 

He growled, nuzzling into his hair, “ _We_ are.”

 

The elevator never moved fast enough, Shepard mused, but after the last time they’d gotten a little too heated in the elevator when Shepard had had a visitor waiting in his room, they’d decided against it. Miranda would forgive him eventually.

 

The soft bing signaling their arrival was met with Garrus shoving him towards the doors almost before they’d begun opening. He laughed, fleeing into his cabin with Garrus following him close behind.

Turians were full of those predatory instincts. The staring, the crowding, the fascination with fleeing figures, at first it’d made Shepard nervous, but now he found he liked it. The intense sort of attention he paid to him, the chasing, it was nice.

 

It was nice being wanted for more than his penchant for death, if he was to be completely honest.

 

He almost tripped over the steps leading to his room, but despite this he was almost past the fish tank before Garrus caught him. Rather than grabbing him and lifting him, though, he grabbed him and shoved him into the glass. The air in Shepard’s lungs vacated with a short grunt, and he tried to push himself away from the cold glass of the tank in vain.

Garrus was leaning into him, superior height and weight effectively pinning him. He couldn’t move, could only feel him sink his claws into his hips in an almost painful grip.

Shepard was busy trying to get his breath back when Garrus snarled, sending shivers up his spine and making his legs shake.

He turned his head as far as he could, which wasn’t much, but he could see Garrus was staring...well, glaring at him.

 

“Whuh?”

 

_Articulate as always, Shepard._

 

Garrus growled again, pressing his body into Shepard’s, and dropping his head to breathe in deeply at Shepard’s neck. He held them there for a moment, and then finally murmured, “I can never get used to you running into danger.”

 

Shepard blinked, wriggling and trying to turn, do anything, really, than press his face into the glass, but Garrus wasn’t having it. He felt the points of his mouth plates, and then, like ice, the points of his teeth softly grip his neck in warning, and Shepard stilled.

 

Shepard tried to figure out what, exactly this was about. Then he puzzled over whether or not he should still consider this sexy.

 

A part of him did. The temperature, the lack of air, even the rough way he’d been shoved into the glass were hitting the right buttons.

 

Garrus nuzzled his neck, and he felt those teeth again. He whined, arching back - the only movement he was allowed at this point.

 

“One moment you were fine, right next to us, the next, you look _wrong_ and you run through a solid door. Did you even hear me call your name?”

 

Oh. The Overlord mission. Of course he had. But David...the rogue VI...it had been calling out in pain. Shepard hadn’t been able to _think_ until he’d solved the issue. It was the same everywhere. It was why he couldn’t contain himself until they’d rescued his stolen crew. The pain, the fear in people’s voices, or their imagined voices...he couldn’t stand it. Ignoring them felt like he was being torn in two. It was why he couldn’t stand the sound of a crying child even if they weren’t in danger. In the Citadel, when Shepard heard someone - anyone, but mostly kids - crying. Over simple things, like not getting a toy they wanted, or pitching a tantrum, it didn’t matter why. The sound...he either took off running towards it or he’d freeze up. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. It still made him laugh in a bitter way when he thought about it. The Hero of the Citadel, motivated by pure instinct and left over fear from his childhood.

 

He opened his mouth to argue, but his lover growled, “I know what you’re going to say. I don’t blame you, Shepard, but just…” He grumbled something Shepard’s translator missed, but the irritation was clear.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“No...I shouldn’t get mad…” Despite the soothing tone, Shepard heard that unspoken _but_ in his voice. He huffed and added, “I worry too much.”

 

“ _But_ you’re angry anyway.” Shepard managed to push himself a few centimeters from the glass, get enough breath to do more than force out a few words at a time. “And I understand why. I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat,  “You’re not the only one who worries.”

 

“...I’m sorry too..” Garrus took in a shuddering breath and grabbed his hair. No soft scratching, no caresses, he grabbed and pulled until Shepard winced and tilted his head back to keep the pressure off of his scalp. “Now where were we?”

 

Shepard wheezed out a laugh, the noise catching in his throat as he felt a too-hot tongue trail up his neck. He shuddered, hands closing into fists against the glass and let out a soft groan.

 

Garrus chuckled, and did it again, ending that lick with a not-so-soft bite just under Shepard’s jaw. At the same time he felt Garrus’ free hand reach around to palm him through his uniform, and he shuddered, hips twitching.

 

Garrus tugged on his hair again, eliciting a hiss from Shepard as he leaned back fully against the turian. He pulled him up to his tiptoes, forcing him to arch his back, one hand on his head, one between his legs, and he nibbled on his neck again, biting hard enough to leave marks and send shocks down his back.

He liked a little rough play, but Garrus was pulling on the hairs on the nape of his neck, and he was close to tearing up from the tension. “Mako” was on the tip of his tongue when Garrus released him and stepped back, leaving Shepard to wobble backwards on shaking legs.

His breath rush in and out of his chest, and before he had the chance to catch it, he was pulled back and thrown on the bed.

A startled laugh burst from his lips, and he watched appreciatively as Garrus stood before him.

 

“Taking charge tonight, huh?”

 

His mandibles spread wide, and he cocked his hips, hands slowly trailing up to the catches in his armor.

Shepard sat up on his elbows to watch the show.

‘Show’ perhaps wasn’t the word. Neither of them were particularly smooth, but Garrus managed to unfasten his armor plates with just enough teasing to keep him interested. Shepard grinned and slipped his fingers under the seals of his uniform shirt and tugged it off while Garrus did the same to his undersuit.

Shepard sat up, reached out and ran his thumbs down his exposed waist and was rewarded with a soft sigh and gentle hands in his hair.

Shepard admired the heated skin beneath his hands, rougher than a human’s but by far softer than the plates surrounding. He worked the muscles in his hands, rubbing circles around Garrus’ jutting hip bones.

Garrus’ eyes shut and he tilted his head back with a groan, leaning into Shepard’s touch, shins hitting the edge of the bed. His claws spasmed and clenched fistfuls of Shepard’s hair between them.

“Don’t pull as hard this time,” he warned, leaning forward to press his lips to Garrus’ stomach.

Heat. Garrus was heat and muscle and rough edges that covered almost all of his soft, sensitive spots. He slid his hands back and kneaded his muscles,, knuckles brushing the line of plates that covered his spine. He tasted like iron, and the contact was making his lips tingle, but otherwise he was no different from a human. Though tougher, his hide still bruised the same, and he delighted in leaving marks with teeth and tongue.

Garrus let out another guttural groan as Shepard bit down lightly on his side, leaving a trail of kisses and hickeys in his wake. No doubt he felt Shepard smirking, but he didn’t comment, far too busy twitching and making low, appreciative noises. When Shepard tried to pull back, he hesitated, then released his head.

“Human mouths are…” Garrus dropped one hand to run a finger over Shepard’s bottom lip.

 

“You haven’t seen nothing yet.” Shepard grinned up at him, another recycled line from their first, faltering attempts. When he got an answering grin from the turian he worked on yanking down the rest of his undersuit. The rest of it would tangle around his legs and in his spurs but that was _his_ problem, Shepard wasn’t letting him go anytime soon.

 

Garrus only just stopped him from diving right for his plates, already slightly parted. “Wait- ah…” He held Shepard back by the shoulders, speaking in a breathy voice, “You remember the signal?”

Shepard nodded, reaching up to tap twice on the plating of his chest.

 

In battle, it meant ‘stop, listen’. In the bedroom the meaning hadn’t changed. Three taps meant ‘stop immediately’, but they hadn’t reached a point on or off the battlefield where three taps were needed.

Garrus nodded and released him.

 

Shepard slowly licked up the seam of his plates, listening to Garrus’ rumble, and watching as they widened just a bit. After a few passes Garrus let out an impatient noise and pulled his head forward, eliciting a soft laugh from him. His vivid blue cock was peeking out from between the plates, and the sight never ceased to fascinate Shepard.

They were so different.

They were so different.

 

And yet they worked.

 

He gripped Garrus by the waist, squeezing hard with his hands as he took the tip in his mouth.

Garrus’ hands tightened, and he bucked, more and more of him emerging from his plates into Shepard’s waiting mouth.

He pressed his tongue to the underside of his shaft and sucked, and with a strangled moan Garrus slide free from his plates fully.

He always liked to go straight from his sheathe into Shepard, who rarely gave the turian time to breathe once he was free.

Shepard hollowed his cheeks pulling out, and moaned as he bobbed his head back down, feeling the claws in his hair tighten into fists.

He tasted strange, but not unpleasant, and the feel of him, stretching his lips, head guided by his hands, legs shaking, made him oddly giddy.

Garrus yanked him down, going deeper with each thrust, their pace becoming punishing.

Muscles flexed beneath his hands, Garrus’ hot, heavy cock pumped into him, reaching deeper and deeper, until he was fighting back against his gag reflex and clutching him tighter, closer.

 

It was strange, how he so often fought to breathe, but at times like this, he wanted to choke, he wanted the burn in his chest and those claws pulling him until his nose brushed roughly against his plates.

It hurt, but it hurt in a good way. He wanted the sting, the burn, the raw desperation he could feel in each strong, snapping of his hips. 

 

“Sh-Shepard…” He breathed above him, odd, dual toned ululation coming from his chest every so often.

 

And, too soon, he was pulled away, gasping and coughing, while Garrus grew still, panting roughly, hands shakingly stroking his hair.

Through a sea of swimming black dots, and unable to hear much more than his frenzied heartbeat and uneven breathing, he gazed up at him.

Garrus was staring, he was always staring.

 

There wasn’t a moment of his career on the Normandy he didn’t feel Garrus’ eyes on him. In the field, off the field, recovering after or preparing before a mission. Miranda may be his XO, but if he’d had the choice it would always be Garrus.

 

Loneliness hadn’t been something he was ever afraid of until he knew what it felt like to have the best crew in the universe, before having the best friend in the galaxy. On the Normandy, with Garrus’ eyes on him, he was never alone.

 

He pulled Shepard to his feet and pressed his mouth plates to his raw, bruised lips.

 

Being held by him felt so natural, he sank into his arms, pressing tender kisses to his mouth and mandibles, nipping at his neck whenever he could.

They separated briefly, so Shepard could kick off his pants and catch his breath, and so Garrus could stumble out of his undersuit. By the time the turian joined him on the bed he was twirling a bottle of lube between his fingers.

Garrus crawled over him, licking - and biting - at his skin. Shepard relaxed, tilting his head back as Garrus’ teeth nibbled their way up his chest.

He sank his teeth into the hollow above his collarbone, and Shepard jerked, letting out a sharp hiss. The sting from his teeth was dulled by a skilled hand palming his erection.

 

He threw his head back and jerked, letting out a slow hiss.

“Jeez - Fuck, hurry.”

 

He pointedly didn’t look at the smirk shot his way and focused on watching Garrus open the bottle to lube up.

Once the turian caught his eye he stared, unblinking, and Shepard had to break eye contact. He cursed, reaching over to his bedside table to grab a condom.

By the time he’d rolled it on Garrus was straddling him, clear drops of lube dripping from his open hands onto Shepard’s cock.

 

He almost whimpered when Garrus finally touched him, spreading the lube over his head and stroking down with a tight fist. His toes curled and he took a deep breathe as he did it again.

His hands gripped the jut of Garrus’ hip and he thrust up into his hands, a whine in his throat and another half-snarled _hurry up_ curling his lips.

 

By the time Garrus finally lined himself up and sank down, inch by inch,  Shepard was a writhing mess of energy. That too-hot almost unbearable heat enveloped him, and he trembled, doing his best to stay still, hands gripping Garrus’ hips while they both adjusted.

 

“You feel so good,” he purred, looking happy enough to sit there all night without moving. Shepard’s nails scraped against his plating.

 

 _God_ , he could feel that bastard’s harmonics around his-

 

Garrus twisted his hips and pulled up before abruptly sinking back down, and it was all Shepard could do to hold on and rock his hips in time with his pace.

 

He was so hot and tight, and god, the way he was riding him, at such a fast pace he could barely think. He met his pace and fought to keep his head under the waves of pleasure that shot through his body like electricity.

 

Words were flowing from his lips, but he wasn’t quite aware of what he was saying. Probably along the lines of _fuck_ or _good_. He never had the best charisma under favorable circumstances.

With his gorgeous friend grinding down on him and letting out the occasional deep, rumbling moan?

He had no chance.

 

One of his hands slid down to grip Garrus’ cock and pump him along with the cant of his hips.

 

“ _Ah_...huh...ah, Shep-” Garrus panted, letting out a string of curses as Shepard thrust up at an angle. He shuddered, then bucked with a hoarse cry.

Shepard pounded upwards, using his grip on his hips to fuck him in earnest once his pace faltered.

Garrus’ thighs tightened around his waist, rough plates rubbing against his skin.

His plates would scuff his skin raw if they lasted much longer, but by the way Garrus was breathing, and from the way his talons were digging into his sides, they were nearly there.

Garrus' pace faltered, and he keened, body shaking and tensing as he came. Shepard pumped him hard and fucked him through it, finding his own release soon after. They sat there, panting, for a few moments.

He sat up and pulled Garrus down for one last kiss, hands stroking his mandibles and neck. 

A broken humm started up in his chest and he settled more of his weight on Shepard, arms sliding up his sides to cradle his face.

They took a moment, foreheads pressed together, to cool down.

 

He tried to think of a quip, but it was hard to think with his hands on Garrus' ass and a pool of alien funk drying on his stomach. Air was, as always, in short supply as well.

 

Garrus finally got up, pulling free from Shepard with a grunt and walking to the bathroom. 

 

Shepard looked down at his stomach, at the mess they'd made, and laughed. He pulled the condom off and tied it, dumping it in the general location of his trash can.

His ribs felt sore, as did his hips. Garrus wasn't light, and he was sure if he ever fell asleep on top of Shepard like that, and he would suffocate, but it felt...nice.

It felt good to feel his joints creak. 

He'd wake up tomorrow with sore  _everything_ , but for now he was alright riding the high and taking stock.

Cuts in his sides, shallow but long. Bruised lips, bruised hips, and pink skin everywhere the friction had gotten too much.

He smiled, tracing the claw marks, checking for blood as he ran a finger along each one. 

 

He hoped they scarred.

 

Garrus shuffled out of the bathroom shortly afterwards and collapsed into bed. Shepard then got up to shower off.

The hot water burned over every single ache and pain, but he stood in the spray until all of his skin was pink and he felt lightheaded. 

When he got out he didn't bother drying his hair out and dropped into bed next to Garrus.

Immediately he felt a tug on the blankets and he grumbled, "You can sleep here and share or go to your cot in the Battery."

"You can't scare me with empty threats, Shepard."

Shepard snorted, and rolled up in as much blanket as he could, well and trully snug before he closed his eyes. 

"I needed this." He mumbled. 

"Me too."


	4. Love

He drifted into awareness, slow to wake. Shepard's body hurt, his skin pulled as he stretched, lines of burning warmth along his sides, a semi-circle at his neck. He grimaced, and felt his old scars pull at his lips.

He'd had them before his reincarnation. A bad fight with some merc's wild animal in his early days, like liquid shadow, with a heavy beak and two talons longer than his hand. The beast had ambushed him after he'd killed the merc, leaping into his chest and slicing through his shields like butter. After killing it, he returned to his unit without feeling anything, unaware of the two inch long gash in his face, that exposed his teeth like some sort of carnal grin.

When he'd woken up after dying, they'd been there, but they didn't _pull._ They were purely aesthetic. 

 

He'd hated them. 

 

They'd made him feel even more like a fake, all pure and plain like he'd been before he'd become Shepard. He'd felt like a Colonist-born farmboy again, and it'd brought back all of those wonderful memories he'd buried under gnarled and twisted flesh. 

 

It'd been mostly a mistake that he split his lip open again. Too much roughhousing with Grunt, too much sparring with the krogan, who barely knew his own strength, who didn't care about holding punches. He'd been slammed into a crate face-first, and the scars split like an old seam. 

He licked his lips, feeling the divot with his tongue. 

Chakwas hadn't been happy, but it'd been the first time he'd felt like himself since waking up, blood running down his face, grinning wide and high-fiving Grunt.

 

His jaw ached, he realized, and, remembering why, he smiled wider, burying his face in his pillow. 

 

Rarely did he wake up at ease, even rarer to wake up feeling almost  _happy_ , so when he felt Garrus shift on the other side of the bed, he rolled over, and, without thought, scooted closer and threw an arm around him.

 

His eyes snapped open in realization, and, to make matters worse, he met Garrus' startled gaze as he jerked his arm back. 

They stared at each other for a moment, Shepard's arm still hanging in the air, Garrus, staring until Shepard's eyes watered and he had to look away.

 

He forced a laugh, then a cough, "G'morning."

 

He got a sleepy rumble in response, and Shepard quickly rolled back over, cursing at himself, hands tightening into fists.

 

They'd agreed - he'd  _explained_ \- that they could keep it friendly. He had no business needlessly confusing the man-

 

Garrus threw an arm around him and bodily dragged him across the bed until he was nestled up against his chest, his nose buried in Shepard's hair. Before Shepard could protest a long, happy sigh came from the Turian, who seemed ready to go back to sleep.

 

"W-wait-" He struggled, fighting both muscle and the sheer weight of Garrus' arms, and was reluctantly released. 

 

"Hmm?"

 

Shepard huffed, looking anywhere but the turian, "Don't you think this is too much?"

 

Garrus snorted, "What? You're allowed to cuddle up to me, but I can't?"

 

"No, I mean - I didn't mean to..." His face was burning. The first talk they'd had about this had been bad enough, but now here he was, caught in a moment of weakness, and now he had to-

He let out a short hiss or air, frustration winding tight around his chest, making it harder to breathe in. 

 

Garrus rumbled, still completely at ease, relaxing into the blankets, "Shepard...you realize Turians need less sleep than humans, correct?"

 

He frowned, trying to think about why that was important. His reply was short and testy, "Yeah. Sure." 

 

"Do you  _know_ how many times I've woken up with you wrapped around me?" Garrus laughed, and waved him closer, "Get over here."

 

Oh. Oh no. He put his head in his hands, holding his breath until his head started to hurt. 

 

The few lovers he'd had over the years had never seemed to  _get_ it, and he'd hoped Garrus would be different. It was his fault, after all, sleep-cuddling his way into one big misunderstanding after another. It had ruined each and every relationship he'd been a part of, and now it would ruin this one.

 

"Hey..." The bed shifted, and a hand gently pried his hands from his face, "Shepard."

Garrus could uncover his face and tilt his head up, but he couldn't force Shepard to open his eyes and meet that  _gaze_. 

"Take a deep breath."

 

He did, but his chest was tight, and it hurt to breathe in. 

 

"I don't understand what's wrong. You like it, right?"

 

What was wrong was he _loved_ him, and the very thought of the word made him freeze, made his lungs shrivel and crumble into ash, made his heart turn to lead and sink through his stomach.

No one ever meant _his '_ love' when they said it, and when they heard it, they refused to read it any other way.

 _You like it_ always meant  _I don't believe you are who you say you are._

 

 

"Talk to me, Shepard."

 

He spoke with what little air he could draw in, all in a rush, "We're supposed to stay friends."

 

Garrus tilted his head, waiting for more, and he took another couple of shallow breaths, trying to keep them consistent despite the fist in his chest crushing his lungs. 

"This isn't 'just friends'." He said again, bracing for the worst. For the blatant disregard for their boundaries, for the weedling comments that maybe  _maybe_ ...

His eyes snapped shut, unable to meet that searching gaze.

 

"You're going to have to explain this one to me, Shepard. I wasn't asking you to  _marry_ me...What did I do wrong?"

 

He flinched at the word, at all of the memories it stirred up, like mud at the bottom of a pond.  

 

"Hey..." A hand took his own and drew slow circles on his palm. Despite himself, he relaxed. "We're still friends, Shepard. No more, no less. Not unless you want that to change?"

 

He hated the hope he imagined in that soothing voice, he hated that, behind his eyelids, he saw a thousand different ways he could be stumbling into this same old argument again and again and again, but this time with a friend he really did value over all others.

It would kill him to lose Garrus. He would go back to that dark, lonely place he'd been in for  _years_ after he'd lost  _everyone_. 

It choked him up, freezing his throat and burning deep in his chest.

 

"I told you that I don't..." 

_That you don't deserve to_

"That I don't feel any goo goo eye'd sort of...feelings...to anyone." He waved his hands ineffectively in the air, trying to put a name to it.

 

Garrus watched him carefully, even as he pulled his hands away to fidget with his fingers and stare into his lap.

"You said you were Aromantic."

 

He forced himself to breathe out, 1...2...3...

"Yeah."

 

"I understand. Did I make you uncomfortable? The touching...is it too much?" He pulled his hands away, folding them over one thigh.

 

"No..." He buried his face in his hands, tears pricking at his eyes.

He  _lo..._ he thrived off ofit. The banter, the flirting, the hand-holding, the cuddling, but his 'love' was never the right 'love', and letting himself get caught up in it only...

"I don't want to confuse you."

 

Garrus was quiet for a moment, and his nails bit into his skin, internally crumbling under the weight of his stupid  _stupid_ weakness, ruining everything.

He was  _broken_ , and while he'd come to accept it he'd had it happen again and again - people trying to  _fix_ him, people who didn't believe him, people who used his own inability to keep his guard up  _24/7_ against him, telling him that he was  _confused_.

 

"Shepard." 

 

He forced his eyes open and took a ragged breath in, 1...2...3...

 

"We didn't go into this without talking extensively about it. I did research on it, whenever I  _was_ confused, I'd ask you about it." He huffed out a breath, "I wasn't confused about anything until now...you like me sleeping next to you, right?"

 

Shepard held his breath, nodding, 1...2...3...

 

"I didn't think we were anything other than friends who er...enjoyed each other's company. Friends who hugged. Friends who flirted. Because we agreed that this was physical, right?"

 

The iron in his chest was loosening it's hold, bit by bit, but he couldn't let himself believe this was working out, it never worked out, it never worked out, it never worked out. "We're still just friends?"

Garrus laughed, reaching up to scratch the back of his head, "Yeah. As long as you'll have me."

 

Shepard nodded, focusing on his breathing, trying to force the panic to let him go.

 

Garrus held out a hand, waiting for him to take it, "Should I tell you that more? Should I stop being such a smooth Turian badboy? Do you want me to wake you when you try to woo me in your sleep?"

 

Shepard grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug, a startled laugh banishing the last of the weight in his chest. "I just...things have never gone so well for me before. With this, with us."

 

Garrus hummed, resting his chin atop his head, "I'm sorry."

 

"I just...worry." He sighed, closing his eyes as he relaxed in his arms.

 

"You do that a lot." 

 

"I know." 

 

Talons threaded through his hair, and he melted underneath the touch. 

 

"Until you say otherwise, we are friends."

 

"Friends who fuck."

 

"Friends who fuck," he agreed.

 

The word was on the tip of his tongue again, a word that would never belong to him, twisted and warped until it meant only one thing. A promise he could never keep, a promise he never wanted to make. 

He...Garrus was the most important person to him, and he worried, feared, the day that 'just friends' wasn't enough for him. It  _always_ reached that point, eventually. Amazingly understanding best friend in the universe or not.

Shepard's head hurt, a mixture of his overactive mind and the lack of morning coffee. He didn't want to move, though. 

 

Garrus finally yawned, mandibles twitching, tangling in his hair, before slowly disentangling himself from Shepard, "Took you so long to wake up, now I'm starving." His eyes cut to Shepard and he gave him a familiar grin.

 

"Aw, didn't want to leave me all alone?" Shepard shakily got to his feet, feeling a throbbing begin right behind his eyebrow. His migraine was back. He could breathe, at least. That was progress.

 

"More like I couldn't get free until you woke up." He had to run up the stairs to dodge the pillow that was hurled at his face. 

 

An easy smile spread over his face, and he felt the tugging at his lips. 

 

Just like old times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this particular story but I have some other stuff planned inbetween updating my longer-termed fic, Aftershocks.
> 
> Comments and critique are appreciated, and I hope you enjoyed!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> If you like what you read, hit me up at [my tumblr](http://www.arkadyflinch.tumblr.com)! I talk about what I write and future projects!


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